[Verse 1]
My body sleeps — I slip out like smoke,
Heartbeat left in a hollow cloak.
I cut the tether, I ride the seam,
Ash-blue clouds, copper lanterns gleam.
One-step, two-step on a silver ridge,
Echoing kettle, the world on a bridge.
I move like a rumor, light on the run,
Hunting a laugh, hunting the sun.
[Pre-Chorus]
A warm laugh splits the night — a single bell,
Chipped blue teacup, jasmine in the smell.
Words like embers. Slow. They land.
Hands like maps, he places them in my hand.
[Chorus]
Pour me a storm in a porcelain cup —
Steal back my nights with a single, sharp sip up.
Jasmine steam, bright and rough,
One hot swallow — heal me enough.
Pour me a storm in a porcelain cup —
Steal back my nights with a single, sharp sip up.
[Verse 2]
Copper lanes hum; the spirit market thrums,
Footsteps click — ancient drums.
Iroh sits framed by lantern light,
Eyes like old maps, gentle and bright.
A chipped rim, a crooked smile,
He hums old rain, he hums old miles.
“Sit,” he says. “Spill the weight.”
I spill my bones, my stubborn hate.
[Pre-Chorus]
He pats the lid, steam writes the sky,
Stories curl off his lips and fly.
“Breathe the map. Let the worry thin.
Tea is truth; pour the trouble in.”
[Chorus]
Pour me a storm in a porcelain cup —
Steal back my nights with a single, sharp sip up.
Jasmine steam, bright and rough,
One hot swallow — heal me enough.
Pour me a storm in a porcelain cup —
Steal back my nights with a single, sharp sip up.
[Instrumental Break — teapot/steam motif on guitar]
(Sharp palm-muted riff. Guitar bends like steam. Snare snaps. Two-bar lead that hisses and climbs.)
[Bridge — quiet, intimate]
He leans in, the room shrinks down to bone.
“Fear is loud,” he says, “but you’re not alone.”
Hands fold like paper, slow and true,
He shows me the seam where the dark came through.
One hush. One breath. A stubborn ember,
“Name it, feel it, then dismember.”
Small laugh — cracked, warm, real.
Chipped cup to my lips — I start to heal.
[Build]
Strings rise. The kettle wails, a warning cry.
Footsteps pound — I learn to fly.
One-two. One-two. Heart beats syncopate.
I toss the fear — the night won’t wait.
[Final Chorus — full, assertive]
Pour me a storm in a porcelain cup —
Steal back my nights with a single, sharp sip up.
Jasmine steam, bright and rough,
One hot swallow — I’m braced, I’m tough.
Pour me a storm — pour me up, pour me up,
I take the heat, I take the hush, I take the shove.
Pour me a storm in a porcelain cup —
Steal back my nights with a single, sharp sip up.
[Outro]
Dawn threads the sky; I carry his flame.
His laugh in my bones, not calling my name.
Cup empty, hands steady, the ash turns gold.
I walk back to skin, a little less cold.
Home.
